The dance is for young women what the chase is for young men:  a protecting school of wisdom—­a preservative of the growing passions.  The celebrated Locke who made virtue the sole end of education, expressly recommends teaching children to dance as early as they are able to learn.  Dancing carries within itself an eminently cooling quality and all over the world the tempests of the heart await to break forth the repose of the limbs.

In “The Traveller,” Goldsmith says: 

    Alike all ages dames of ancient days
    Have led their children through the mirthful maze
    And the gay grandsire skilled in gestic lore
    Has frisked beneath the burden of three score.

To the Prudes, in all soberness—­Is it likely, considering the stubborn conservatism of age, that these dames, well seasoned in the habit, will leave it off directly, or the impenitent old grandsire abate one jot or tittle of his friskiness in the near future?  Is it a reasonable hope?  Is the outlook from the watch towers of Philistia an encouraging one?

X

THEY ALL DANCE

    Fountains dance down to the river,
      Rivers to the ocean
    Summer leaflets dance and quiver
      To the breeze’s motion
    Nothing in the world is single—­
      All things by a simple rule
    Nods and steps and graces mingle
      As at dancing school

See the shadows on the mountain
Pirouette with one another
See the leaf upon the fountain
Dances with its leaflet brother
See the moonlight on the earth
Flecking forest gleam and glance! 
What are all these dancings worth
If I may not dance?

_—­After Shelley_

Dance?  Why not?  The dance is natural, it is innocent, wholesome, enjoyable.  It has the sanction of religion, philosophy, science.  It is approved by the sacred writings of all ages and nations—­of Judaism, Buddhism, Christianity, Islam, of Zoroaster and Confucius.  Not an altar, from Jupiter to Jesus, around which the votaries have not danced with religious zeal and indubitable profit to mind and body.  Fire worshipers of Persia and Peru danced about the visible sign and manifestation to their deity.  Dervishes dance in frenzy, and the Shakers jump up and come down hard through excess of the Spirit.  All the gods have danced with all the goddesses—­round dances, too.  The lively divinities created by the Greeks in their own image danced divinely, as became them.  Old Thor stormed and thundered down the icy halls of the Scandinavian mythology to the music of runic rhymes, and the souls of slain heroes in Valhalla take to their toes in celebration of their valorous deeds done in the body upon the bodies of their enemies.  Angels dance before the Great White Throne to harps attuned by angel hands, and the Master of the Revels—­who arranges the music of the spheres—­looks approvingly on.  Dancing is of divine institution.